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RPlog:A Shot Not Taken
Simon Of average height and fair coloring, the young man before you has dark brown hair and eyes of a color somewhere between blue and gray. His hair is parted and cut short. His eyes are deep-set, looking more ready to draw his brow into a deep frown than a warm smile. For facial hair he wears a well groomed goatee and mustache, trimmed short and of the same deep color as the rest of his hair. Along the sides of his head and running down his neck can clearly be seen dark discolorations, perhaps Sarian spots. All in all, the man's demeanor can be summed up in a word: intense. Simon is dressed in earth tones. Light tan, loose fitting trousers are tucked into soft leather boots that come up to just under his knees, and are tied tight with brown, leather chords. Tucked into the top of his pants is a simple shirt of a matching color. Over this is a loose wool tunic of dark brown, covering his arms completely and hanging down below his waste. It's comfortable clothing, suitable for most climates and cultures. Strapped diagnolly across his chest and back is what appears to be some sort of harness. It's worn in the way some people wear a bandolier, yet there is nothing attached to the device. A long shaft of cylinder rises over his left shoulder, a rod sheathed where some warriors sling their sword. Mailyn There is not much to distinguish this woman who looks to be in her early to mid twenties. At about 5'5" she is average in height. She has a boyish, athletic build, and while she is far from plump, she isn't quite slender either. Her deep-set, almond shaped eyes are an icy shade of blue. She has sharp features with a pronounced chin and cheekbones. Her complexion is a pale ivory color that is in stark contrast to the raven black hair that falls a few inches below her shoulders. Her hair is thick and wavy, tamed by being pulled back in a fishtail braid secured at the nape of her neck with a sage colored plaited cord. This woman is dressed completely in dark, muted colors. Her tunic, skirt, and even her shoes, are all the rich, deep green shades of emeralds. She is wearing a tunic length, basket weave top. This lightweight garment is fashioned from a flecked linen fiber and has long sleeves that are pushed up to her elbows. Her skirt falls to mid calf and is made from slubbed raw silk, and is finished with a zig-zag hemline. Her feet are clad in comfortable peau de soi loafers with an adjustable side buckle. Over her left shoulder, and resting on her right hip, she has slung a canvas satchel that has a wool plaid flap with buckle closures. ____________________________________________ Pallando hung over Simon's shoulders like a dead thing, his arms dangling limply down Simon's back, his hair a disshevelled mess as gravity has its way with him. Surprisingly few people had given any notice or taken alarm seeing the goateed man walking down the street with another man slung over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Perhaps it was because of the steady torrent of rain the poured out of the angry sky overhead, putting Plaxton City's drainage system to the test. Perhaps it was the confident stride with which Simon walked, putting each foot forward with great intention. Those that do take interest in Simon's business offer assistance, which Simon easily waves off. After a period of time, Simon finally stops not far from the city's center, Fountain Square. He stands before a metal bench, bolted down onto the concrete so as to withstand the harsh weather that Caspar is known for. Showing little delicacy, Simon flips Pallando off his shoulder, plopping him down squarely in the center of the bench. As he straightens, he runs the back of his hand across his brow, a useless gesture as the rain continues to drench him, soaking his clothes and plastering his hair down to his scalp. Raising his voice to be heard over the sound of the storm, Simon speaks as he turns back to Mailyn. He offers the blaster power pack to Mailyn as he says, "This is as far as I will take you. Keep his head down and he will not drown." Her heart races, but she keeps apace with this Sarian man. Her thoughts race as well. She isn't sure what is going on. It is an effort to keep apace. Mailyn tries to get the attention of some of the other people they pass, but no one seems to be paying her any heed. The gun she carries is heavy, and she finds that she keeps having to adjust how she's carrying it. WHere are they going? How far? Mai is getting tired. She is wet through and through, and she blinks back tears. She wants to ask questions, she wants to KNOW, but she is too out of breath for that, and besides the Sarian would never hear her over the rain. Her thoughts go back to that ship. At least thye aren't THERE. That poor woman. Mai shudders just thinking about it. She spares no thought to Daana. She cannot believe what she saw, and while her mind tries to fit a rational explanation, it just doesn't come. She heaves a sigh of relief as they stop. Se takes the blaster pack, and stares at the man with wide eyes. She looks at her hands. Her gaze goes from the blaster, to the pack, and back to the blaster, as if trying to work something out. Simon stares at Mailyn a moment, his expression stern. She was giving the technological weapon a great deal more scrutiny than he believed it needed. It wasn't that he knew anything more about the workings of the weapon. On the contrary, he wouldn't have known that the two pieces went together if he hadn't seen Daana Roon separate them. He was mildly alarmed that the woman should give the blaster so much attention, when it was such a hateful thing. If it was up to him, it would have been tossed down one of the sewer drains, or destroyed completely. Simon starts to turn to walk back towards the starport, but then stops. He looks over his shoulder at Pallando's form, laid out on the bench like a drunkard too lost to the drink to come in out of the rain. It was appropriate that he should think of a drunkard; the most industrial parts of the city like this one was home to the less fortunate. Mira had shown him that once, a long time ago. Shaking his head, Simon walks back to where he'd dropped Pallando and reaches a hand toward his head. It had started to fall backward, which could be dangerous for the man. With the way the precipitation was coming down, it could go up his nose, and he really could drown. He hadn't carried the man all this way just to let him die in the rain. Mai meets the stern gaze of the goateed man, Simon, she believed was what he was called with a wide eyed stare of her own. As he turns away, she tries to fit the pack into the blaster, though she isn't sure what she will do with the thing should she manage to load it. These were not her weapons of choice. She saw waht he did to her companion though, and she feared that even if she could get a shot off, her aim would have to be true. She'd not have a second chance. Of this she was certain. SO what was it going to be? Stay here? Leave Pallando to the elements? Be thankful she still had her hide? She owed nothing to this man, though he still owed her 1000 credits which she sorely needed. Try to stop this man? She wasn't even sure what he'd done, but she was pretty sure it had to be something heinous. She had only to think of that chained woman. Or was that Daana's doing. Ah, Daana again. And in that hesitation he turns around. He turns around! What could he want? She lowers her hands, he shouldn't see what she'd managed to do. She can scarely catch her breath. Her hands start to tremble as he comes closer. She begins to take a step backwards with each of his approaching steps. She feels adrenalin surge through her body..fight or flight. What is it going to be? Or has the fear just paralyzed her. She watches with wide mouthed increduality as he approaches Pallando, and helps rather than hurts him further. She looks at him, and then back down to the weapon in her hands. She is hyperventilating. The rain is getting in her eyes...she has to make a choice... Simon tilts Pallando's head left and right, looking to try and place it in the most stable position that wasn't going to just fall back. It'd be a lot easier if the fellow's head wasn't quite so heavy and thick. Maybe he should find something to cover it over... It's then that he feels a prickling of a sensation in the back of his mind. He straightens, looking straight forward, his back still to Mailyn. He frowns deeply, and rain runs down his brow into his eyes, causing him to blink. He felt danger, close at hand. Almost upon him. Realization blumes in his mind like a nightflower, exposing its petals to the moonlight. He turns slowly, knowing what he'll see. Sure enough, his eyes latch upon Mailyn and the blaster, reassembled. Was she shivering? Was it fear, or the cold from the rain? Either way, she was the source of danger to him. Once again, he'd dismissed someone's potential threat out of hand, only to find himself trapped by his own overconfidence. His upper lives quivers back in anger, bearing his teeth in a grimace. And now's her chance. All she needs do is raise and fire. It couldn't be easier. Or could it? Mai simply cannot will herslef to do it. She hesitates just that tiny fraction of a moment. She who hesitates is indeed lost. And he's turned around. She bites down hard on her lip, breath coming in short gasps. She lowers her hands in a futile attempt to hide her thoughts, not knowing that to this man they are likely as clear the rain that falls from the sky. The rain obscures her vision some, but there is no hiding from the awful look he spares her. She fights to remain upright, but still steps backward, step by..and she's against a wall. Nowhere to go. "You could not shoot me in the back," Simon growls, his unusual accent slurring his words once more. He takes one daring half step towards Mailyn, then freezes in his tracks again, looking very much like a wolf stalking its prey. His eyes continue to move up and down Mailyn, studying her as he watches for a sign of quick movement. He continues speaking, raising his voice. "Was it that you could not shoot me, or that you just could not shoot me in the back? Were you afraid that I was going to break your little man's neck, here in the rain, or were you afraid that I would get away? Or maybe you have something else in mind. Maybe you think you can take me alive and turn me in to the Empire for the bounty on my head. They are the ones paying the most for my scalp these days, are they not?" He pauses to lick his lips. He continues, his voice going suddenly quiet, yet distinguishable above the sound of the rain, "If you are going to do it, do it now and get it over with." Lightning flashes over head and the sound of thunder rolls loudly over the city with it. In the echo of the thunder, Simon shouts, "Do it!" He deamnds questions she cannot answer. They are questions the answers to which are too awful to contemplate. WHy can't she shoot him? Why did she hesitate? What was the sway he held over her? What was the sway Pallando held over her that she risked so much for nothing? It was so unlike her to be so ambivalent. But these are just the thoughts that pass through her mind..and she really isn't paying them any heed.She flattens herself against the wall. She shuts her eyes and tries to remian defiant. She will not cower. She must not or she is dead. Of this she has no doubt. A bounty? Recognition dawned. Pallando had mentioned a bounty, but imperial credits were nothing she wished to taint her hands with. She has no want for making money with the blood of another being in any event. She shakes her head. She lowers her hand and the blaster clanks to the ground. She herself slumps to the ground as well. "I cannot" she sobs. Another bout of lightning flashes overhead, followed by a more subdued crash of thunder. The sound of the rain splattering against the concrete seems all that much louder in its wake, as if all other sound had fled them in that pinnacle moment. Clenching his jaw, Simon blinks more rain out of his eyes, feeling his heart start to slow back to a normal pace. It had pounded so hard for a moment that he could still feel the fading pain in his chest. The clatter of the weapon on the ground had meant that the danger was past, and Simon no longer felt that sensation that doom was at hand. Slowly, Simon takes the few remaining steps between he and Mailyn, looking down at her as the rain continues to torment them. He clenches and unclenches his fists as he stands there studying her. It was one of those poignant moments where he could kick her or kiss her; as vulnerable as she appeared, either action was almost appropriate. At last, Simon takes a step back as he finds some center of calm within himself. He says, "I am going to walk away from here, now. I could take that weapon away from you, but I am not going to. Do yourself a favor and get rid of it, before it destroys you." Once more, Simon turns and begins to move away, his back, once again, exposed. So soaked through with rain is Mai, that she doesn't even notice it falling anymore. THough she has lowered her head, cowering depite her best intentions not to, she watches this man thorough her eyelashes. As he comes closer she feels her heart in her throat. There is no more rain. There is no more thunder. The lightening has been stilled. There is just this man. Her heart skips beats with each clencjhing motion of his fists. She is looking at his boots, as he towers over her. And then he takes a step away. Mai looks up, one hand raised midway to her face, a defensive gesture. She nods as he speaks to her. And then he leaves. He might as well take the gun, to her it isn't there. She cannot watch him leave. She buries her head in her hands and waits to wake up from this nightmare. But it is no dream. And when she looks up again, there is just nothing but the deserted street and the rain echoing on the concrete. A Shot Not Taken